


the eye of the abyss

by etoilette



Series: Kinktober 2020 [28]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Crossdressing, Lingerie, M/M, Stockholm Syndrome, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:34:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27254263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etoilette/pseuds/etoilette
Summary: Day #28 of Kinktober: Crossdressing, LingerieThe first thing that greets Akechi when he walks into the so-called safehouse that Shido supplied to him is the fragrant aroma of Hokkaido cream stew. He vaguely recalls buying a handful of root vegetables at Akira's request, but he had assumed that he would make curry in a misguided attempt to soothe himself or appeal to Akechi's nonexistent soft spot.After all, it's been about two months since Akira's been locked up in Akechi's apartment.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: Kinktober 2020 [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949695
Comments: 4
Kudos: 92





	the eye of the abyss

**Author's Note:**

> Big thank you to debilitate for coming up with this beautiful brainworm and also letting me fiddle around in it. <3
> 
> I noticed that this is the third fic I've written for Kinktober that follows this sort of premise...><

The first thing that greets Akechi when he walks into the so-called safehouse that Shido supplied to him is the fragrant aroma of Hokkaido cream stew. He vaguely recalls buying a handful of root vegetables at Akira's request, but he had assumed that he would make curry in a misguided attempt to soothe himself or appeal to Akechi's nonexistent soft spot.

After all, it's been about two months since Akira's been locked up in Akechi's apartment.

At first Akechi had refused to even let him out of the bedroom, where his ankles and wrists could be tied to the four corners of his bed. Eventually, though, he was allowed to walk around, albeit with the shackles still firmly around his ankles. If he can't even power walk or climb out of the window without the possibility of serious injury, then no matter where he tries to escape from, Akechi will be able to find him.

He had expected some resistance at first. Akechi had spent the first day after he snuck the rohypnol into Akira's drink at Jazz Jin essentially Akira-proofing the whole place. Anything that could be used as a weapon or a lockpick was rounded up and locked away in a hidden corner of Akechi's closet.

It was surprisingly easy to tear away at Akira's fangs. In the beginning, he demanded to know what Akechi was doing and why he was doing this, of course. He constantly asked about his fellow Thieves' well-being, as if Akechi was going to murder them in cold blood or something. He didn't make any escape attempts, nor did he try to harm Akechi. Not as if Akechi ever let down his guard for a second around Akira, of course.

After a month though, he relaxed enough to let Akira touch the kitchen knives, though they were so dull that he doubted Akira could harm himself. Even if he decided to try and gouge his eyes out and bleed to death, it would take Akechi mere seconds to drag him into Mementos and heal him up.

Akira being a surprisingly good cook may or may not have had something to do with Akechi's decision.

Although he wishes that Akira would have the decency to dress properly when he cooks. In what universe is there someone who would wear a frilly pink apron over their naked body, complete with white lace stockings and garter belt, in the house of their kidnapper? He can even hear Akira humming something that sounds suspiciously like the _Featherman R_ opening, as if he's really nothing more than a house husband waiting for his partner to come home from work.

Akechi's lips pull down in a frown when he walks into the kitchen and he places his briefcase on the chair. Akira must have heard him, from the click of the front door unlocking and opening, but he won't turn around until he hears the magic words.

"I'm home," Akechi sighs.

Akira whirls around immediately, cupping a hand under the ladle so the stew doesn't drip onto the polished wooden floor. Now that he's facing Akechi, Akechi can finally see the first hint of normalcy — a bruise mars his pale face, blossoming black and blue over a delicate cheek, with the faint grey of his eye shining like a star in the night.

Akechi remembers giving that to Akira earlier that morning, when he had woken up to Akira practically spearing his mouth onto his dick. In a panic, his mind hazy from sleep, he had kicked Akira away, so hard that Akira slammed his face against the bedpost.

"Welcome home, Akechi!" Akira says cheerily. He picks up a small saucer and tips a small ladleful of stew inside. He gestures Akechi over. Even though Akira's the one with manacles around his ankles, slowing down his motions, it's as if there are weights around Akechi's own legs. Every step is a struggle as he makes his way from the table to the kitchen, where Akira is waiting for him with undisguised excitement on his face. "Try some! It's good."

This close, the bruise looks even worse. Even though an entire day has passed, it still looks bright and fresh, as if Akira had picked himself up after Akechi left the apartment and simply continued the rest of his day as per normal.

Akechi grits his teeth and takes a step back as Akira tries to push the stew against his lips. "Didn't you see the salve I set out for you? I put it on the sink."

Akira shakes his head. "Even if it's something from you, I don't really trust any medicine unless it's from Takemi."

He's not like Akira, with his connections to that strange quack doctor in Yongen-Jaya. The one who can make those miraculous medicines that can even breathe life back into the most fatal of injuries. The best he can do is drugs developed by one of the many pharmacists backing Shido and his United Future Party, and even then, they're leagues away from Takemi's.

Something is better than nothing, though. If Akira is going to be stubborn about this, then Akechi's going to have to be the one who takes charge, as per usual.

But before he can move to the bathroom, Akira grabs his wrist. The strength is unexpected — he had been kept inside, with minimal exercise and nutrition, for two months, and yet he's as strong as he's always been.

"What are you —" Akechi starts angrily, prepared to shake him off, but before he can continue to say anything, Akira pulls him close — so close that he could practically count every one of his eyelashes — and tips the contents of the saucer into his mouth, taking advantage of Akechi's open mouth. Taken off-guard, Akechi swallows.

"How is it?" Akira asks, his voice as low and sweet as honey. Every word sends a warm puff of air against Akechi's cheeks, and Akechi leans back when Akira makes a move as if to kiss him.

It's good. Thick and creamy, and the little bit of chicken thigh that had been in the saucer is tender and juicy. It's probably one of the best Hokkaido cream stews that Akechi's ever eaten.

"It's fine," he says coldly.

"That's great!" Akira laughs. "I knew you would like it." He places the saucer back down on the counter and lowers the heat. "This is a bit of a cliché, so you can laugh at me if you want. What do you want first? Dinner? A bath? Or me?"

He shrugs off the apron, letting the pink fabric fall to the ground and pool around him, and he turns around, revealing his behind.

When Akechi fucked him earlier that morning, he had been frustrated. Furious. How dare Akira jump him like that, when _Akechi_ is supposed to be the one in charge? When _Akechi_ is the one who has all the power here? Akechi hadn't been able to keep himself in check. In retrospect, he had lost his cool, slamming into Akira so hard that the sheer force of his pelvic bone slamming against the cheeks had stained the skin pink and red. He remembers slapping Akira's hip so hard that the handprint had been clearly visible even afterwards, when Akechi left a panting and convulsing Akira on the bed to prepare for his day.

Now, there's no trace of any of that, as if the morning's events had been a fever dream. The only reminder of that fuck is in the black protruding from Akira's hole, with white stains here and there on the inner thigh from when he had first worked in the plug.

"I put it in after you left," Akira says softly. He reaches down with a hand, caressing his taint, stroking a finger on the plug as if he's trying to work it even deeper inside. "You came so much into me. Haha, we make love almost every night but it's like you're insatiable. It was leaking out, all over the sheets. What a waste, right?"

 _You're crazy_ , Akechi wants to say. But he has no room to talk. He's the one who practically kidnapped Akira from Jazz Jin and tied him down in his apartment. He's the one who looks Makoto and the other Thieves in the eye and says that he doesn't know where Akira is, even though he sees Akira's face when he wakes up every morning.

Akira faces him again, a bright smile on his face as he rubs his lower stomach with a hand. No matter how much Akechi stares at him, even with the keen eye of a detective, nothing looks out of place, but Akira is stroking himself with such a lovestruck look in his eye that Akechi can't help but take another step back.

"Can you see?" Akira asks. "You filled me up so well this morning, Akechi. I can feel you even from out here."

He moves his hand away and now that Akechi's looking, there is a faint bulge in Akira's lower belly. Faint enough that he could be seeing things, but there's so much conviction in Akira's eye that maybe...just maybe...

"Hmph," Akechi says, keeping his tone as unaffected as he can. "You're delusional. I don't see anything."

Akira frowns, glaring at Akechi like he always does when Akechi shoots down his jokes. "If I don't look full enough for you to see, then it just means you have to try harder, right?"

It's such a shitty attempt at baiting that Akechi simply waves it off. "What are you even trying to say?" he scoffs instead.

"Oh, nothing," Akira sighs. "Just thinking about how it would be nice to have your child."

Akechi stares at him, waiting for the second shoe to drop. Waiting for any change in Akira's expression that would let him know when it's time to laugh. It's ridiculous. Ludicrous, even. Doesn't Akira know about Akechi's past? Doesn't Akira realize that he's here against his will? That Akira is technically a prisoner here in Akechi's apartment? Just because he's allowed a certain level of freedom now doesn't necessarily mean he should be enjoying his time here.

Did he finally crack?

"What are you saying?" Akechi snaps. If his gun wasn't locked away in his briefcase, he would have pulled it out already. "Do you have any idea what kind of garbage you just spewed out?"

But it's like Akira didn't even hear him.

"It's like I already have it, with how much you filled me up last night. But you can go harder, right, Akechi? I mean, when you first invited me here, you and I made love all night."

Akechi takes a step back, as discretely as he can. Then another. If he can make a break for it, before Akira notices, then there's no way that Akira can catch up to him. He won't let Akira die — he'll be back before Akira goes through the entirety of his pantry and fridge — but he needs some time to cool off. As far away from Akechi as possible.

It's because they see each other every day. Or it's because Akechi fucks him every day. This isn't Kurusu Akira, Akechi's rival and equal. This isn't Joker, the infuriating fly who's been ruining Crow's careful web of plans ever since he first flew into the Metaverse.

It's like dealing with an entirely different beast altogether.

"Akechi, where are you going?" Akira asks.

Shit!

But Akechi doesn't freeze. He turns and runs as fast as he can towards the table where he left the briefcase. There's no way that Akira can catch him with his legs tied together by the chains. He can't leave the apartment without that briefcase, where all of his documents and, more importantly, his gun is stored. He reaches out a hand to snag it around the handle and then —

"Ah!?"

He stumbles and falls to the ground, wincing when he feels his nose slam against the wood, but he's been through much worse. Akechi pushes himself up and glances behind him; a ladle rolls innocently on the floor, and he recognizes it instantly as the one that Akira had been using to stir the stew. He must have thrown it so it tangled it up with Akechi's legs.

"Are you a ninja or something?" Akechi hisses but the second of hesitation before he could regain his footing was enough.

Akira practically hobbles over, almost tripping over himself in his haste to get to Akechi, and settles his entire weight down on him. He collects Akechi's wrists in his grip, holding so tight that pain spike down his arms, and with his other hand, he tugs out the butt plug. The stench of semen fills the air and Akechi wrinkles his nose, squirming when he feels the warm liquid splash onto his clothes.

"Why are you looking so disgusted?" Akira asks. "It's yours." Without warning, he scoops up some of the cum from Akechi's stomach and swipes it down his face. There's barely any time for Akechi to react to the disgusting sensation of his own seed dripping down his cheek before Akira leans in close, licking a hot stripe up his skin, sucking down the cum even though it had been inside of him for hours.

"You're sick," Akechi snarls, struggling as best as he can. It's like Akira's made of iron. No matter how much he twists and kicks, he doesn't budge at all, pinning Akechi down with strength he never thought Akira could possess. "Let _go_ of me."

"Shouldn't that be my line?" Akira retorts.

He wrenches Akechi's jaw and holds it steady before he presses his tongue inside, exploring the warm cavern, licking along his hard palate and teeth. Akechi tries to scream, but every sound he makes is fruitlessly swallowed up by Akira. When Akira breaks away, there's nothing but delighted fondness on his face.

"Come on, Akechi. We have all weekend. I'll show you just how much I love you."

**Author's Note:**

> The key that had been locked away in the hidden corner of Akechi's closet jangles in the pocket of Akira's frilly pink apron. Sometimes he wonders if he should use it to escape, maybe join up with the other Thieves so they don't think he's dead in a ditch. But this stay-cation with Akechi has been the most fun that Akira's had in MONTHS and he's loathe to give it all up. He smiles down at Akechi, who slumbers away like a log. He traces his thumb over the dark circles under Akechi's eyes and presses a kiss against the top of his head.


End file.
